


Snake Secret

by witchy_teacup



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale boops the snoot, Bookshop Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Cooks (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Mpreg, Other, Post-Canon, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Supportive Aziraphale (Good Omens), Unplanned Pregnancy, Weird Biology, boop the snoot, is it really mpreg?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:20:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21848086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchy_teacup/pseuds/witchy_teacup
Summary: Crowley has been behaving strangely. Aziraphale didn't really question it. They were still adjusting to their new retired lives together, so some strangeness was to be expected, right?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 330





	1. Chapter 1

Even though it was only three o’clock in the afternoon, Aziraphale flipped the shop’s sign to “Closed” and decided to call up a certain demon to see if he was up for a spot of early dinner at the Ritz. He dialed the number he had know for as long as phone numbers had existed and waiting while it rang. He frowned as he heard the chorus of Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend” echo faintly from the back room. He replaced the receiver and went to investigate. “Crowley?” he called, brow furrowed, as he spotted the demon’s cell phone on the coffee table.

He didn’t remember seeing Crowley leave that morning, but that wasn’t unusual. He wandered the shop looking for any telltale signs of black scales. “Crowley?” he called again, even though by now he was fairly certain that his demon was fast asleep in the sunlight somewhere.

He had just about given up when he spotted the very tip of Crowley’s tail peeking out of the window display. He smiled and crossed to gaze down at his lovely snake snoozing in the mid-afternoon sun. “Such a lovely creature,” he murmured, gently running a finger down the obsidian scales. 

Crowley stirred under his touch and blinked awake slowly. “Closing time already?” he asked telepathically.

Aziraphale smiled widely and said, “Yes, I was just wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner? I believe a table may have just opened up at the Ritz.”

Crowley stretched and slithered out of the window before morphing back into his humanoid form. “Sure thing, Angel,” he said patting his jacket pockets thoughtfully.

“Looking for this?” Aziraphale asked, holding out Crowley’s mobile.

“Ah yes, thanks, Angel.” He took the phone and slipped it into his pocket before opening the shop door for his angel. “After you.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

They settled into the Bentley as Queen’s “Good Old-Fashioned Loverboy” began playing. “I must say, my dear, I’m rather enjoying this look on you,” Aziraphale commented suddenly. 

Crowley blushed behind his sunglasses and made a noncommittal noise in response.

Aziraphale reached over and toyed with his now shoulder-length fiery curls. “I always loved your hair long.”

“Ngk.” Crowley made a conscious effort to keep his eyes on the road and said, “I thought you were hungry for food, Angel.”

Aziraphale hummed and said, “The two aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive, my dearest.” He chuckled at the blush that crept further down Crowley’s neck. “But I am looking forward to dinner.”

Crowley fought to get his blush under control, but it wasn’t easy with how he could feel Aziraphale’s gaze trailing up and down his body. He wasn’t surprised to find that he had beaten his own personal time to the Ritz when they arrived. He fussed over the drape of his long black dress as Aziraphale gave his name to the maitre d’.

Once they’d ordered, Aziraphale picked up the thread of their earlier conversation. “That dress is rather becoming on you, my dear.”

Crowley flushed again and said, “It’s nothing special...” He frowned down at his red wine and snapped the fingers of the hand hanging over the back of his chair before taking a drink. 

Aziraphale smiled, enjoying how flustered his demon always got when he showered him with compliments like this. “You always manage to look effortlessly elegant in whatever you wear, dearest.” He tacked on the suffix for extra oomph and smiled brilliantly when Crowley choked on his wine. He miracled the wine from Crowley’s throat before taking a long sip of his own. 

After the fifth course was cleared, Aziraphale leaned closer and said, “Crowley, you’re actually eating your food. Are you quite alright?”

Crowley scowled and said, “I was hungry alright? It takes a lot of energy to change forms all the time.” Even behind his glasses, Aziraphale was sure that he saw Crowley’s eyes widen as if he’d said too much.

Aziraphale straightened in his seat as their dessert course was served. He picked up his spoon and tapped it to his lips thoughtfully, as Crowley dug into his dessert with deliberate concentration. “You have been spending a lot of time lately in your snake form,” he said, aiming for a casual tone.

Crowley shrugged and muttered something noncommittal around a mouthful of dessert.

“It seems like every time I go looking for you, I find you curled up, sleeping in the sun,” he said again in that failed-attempt-at-casual tone.

Crowley frowned and said, “Aren’t you going to eat that?”

Aziraphale glance down at his plate as if he’d forgotten that it was there. He took a bite and smiled. “Scrumptious.”

Crowley relaxed slightly, hoping that the decadent dessert would be enough to distract his angel for now.

It was. It wasn’t until Crowley tried to slither out of having a nightcap that Aziraphale remembered the point he’d been chasing earlier. “What is wrong, Crowley? First you spend all your time as a snake, then you start eating like a man starved, and now you don’t want to drink with me?” Aziraphale asked, expression wounded.

Crowley tried to shrug off his concern, saying, “I’m just tired, Angel. Thought I’d skip the getting drunk part and go straight to the passing out portion of the evening.” 

Aziraphale tried to not let the rejection sting, but it did. He settled for tugging Crowley down for a gentle but firm kiss. “Very well, my dear. Sleep well.”

Aziraphale spent the night reading, as he usually did, but the subject matter diverged from his usual literature into the biology of snakes. He had gotten so used to Crowley’s humanoid form that he forgot that his companion was also serpentine. He wondered if that was the explanation for the demon’s odd behavior. 

He continued down this train of thought until around 5:00A.M. when he heard a strange noise in the kitchenette. “What on earth?” he wondered, carefully marking his place. He stood and set both his book and his reading glasses on the desk before going to investigate. 

He found a to-go box from one of his favorite bakeries shivering on the counter. He frowned and lifted the lid. “Crowley!” he laughed as he watched the small snake swallow a doughnut whole. “What are you doing in there? Didn’t I have four doughnuts left?”

Aziraphale didn’t know if all snakes could emote guilt, but his could. “Two actually,” said Crowley sheepishly, “I had the other two after you opened shop yesterday.”

“Anthony J. Crowley!” Aziraphale said sternly. “Stealing a person’s doughnuts really is beneath you!” He suddenly realized how silly he must have looked lecturing a small, contrite looking snake with powdered sugar on it’s snout in an empty pastry box. “Obviously, something is going on with you, so will you please transform and talk to me?”

Crowley slithered out of the box and morphed into his more feminine humanoid corporation, sitting on the counter. He was wearing a thick black robe that swallowed his thin frame over what looked like black pajamas printed with bright red apples. He hugged the robe against himself as Aziraphale took him by the hand and led him back to the bed.

“Now, my dearest, will you please tell me what is going on? Why are you suddenly a ravenous little serpent all of the time?” Aziraphale asked sitting next to his contrite partner so he could continue holding his hand.

“Mpgt,” Crowley muttered, avoiding the angel’s gaze.

“Use your words, dearest.”

Crowley took a deep breath and met Aziraphale’s bright blue gaze and said, “I’m pregnant.” Once he’d started talking he found he couldn’t stop. “I couldn’t figure out how to tell you, and at first, it didn’t really matter, because you couldn’t tell, but then it got harder to hide it in my human form so I started being a snake more and more and now I’m just hungry all the time and—”

Aziraphale’s face had gone through several emotions in the span of a few moments while Crowley babbled before it settled on joy. He threw his arms around Crowley and kissed him thoroughly. When he drew back, he met Crowley’s gaze looking for permission as he reached for the sash on his robe. When Crowley nodded hesitantly, he untied the sash and parted the robe. “I had wondered why you had changed your preferred silhouette, my dear,” he said absently as he gently, almost reverently touched the now obvious baby bump.

“Y-you’re not mad?”

The desperation in his tone broke Aziraphale’s heart. “Of course not, dearest. I didn’t think She would let something like this happen for us. I hadn’t really considered the possibility once you started presenting femininely,” he said, stroking the swell of Crowley’s belly. “How long have you known?”

“A couple of months,” Crowley said shakily. He couldn’t believe that Aziraphale wasn’t mad at him. “I woke up one day and just knew. I panicked.”

“Oh, darling, I’m so sorry you’ve felt that you had to hide this all this time,” Aziraphale said, reaching up to caress his cheek. He began undoing the pajama top’s buttons. “I want to fully see this, my dear,” he said preemptively cutting off Crowley’s protests. He paused halfway down the shirt and said, brow furrowed in concern, “The wine last night—“

Crowley dismissed his concern saying, “Miracled it to plain old grape juice. Don’t really know if that whole alcohol thing would affect it, it not being human, but I thought it best not to take the chance.”

Aziraphale nodded, murmuring, “My clever old serpent.” He finished unbuttoning Crowley’s top, revealing his stomach in its fully glory. “Oh, my love,” he breathed, tracing his fingers over the taut skin. “I never thought you could be more beautiful, but you are.”

Crowley sighed, finally relaxing into the throw pillows as Aziraphale leaned down and kissed his belly. “Thanks for not being mad, Angel.”

Aziraphale trailed gentle kisses up the center line of Crowley’s body to capture his mouth in a sweetly passionate kiss. When he pulled back he said gently, “I love you, Crowley.”

“I love you too Angel.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley naps while Aziraphale gets an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Another chapter? Chapter 2 of ? ????  
> I couldn't resist returning to this universe especially when a reader requested it.  
> Prepare yourself for domestic fluff and of course more Snake Crowley!

Aziraphale hummed happily as he browsed the stall at the weekly farmer’s market. Earlier that week, he’d found out that he and Crowley were expecting, and Crowley had surprised him by suggesting that they go to the market that he frequented together. 

“Besides, Angel,” Crowley had said that morning, “I’m a fair hand in the kitchen, and if this whole being hungry thingy is gonna stick around for a while, I should start cooking at home.”

“Good morning, Mr. Fell,” said the woman who sold specialty homemade jams that the angel was particularly fond of. “You’re in a chipper mood today.”

Aziraphale beamed at her and said, “Good morning, Mrs. Davidson. I suppose I am in a rather good mood. I just received some particularly wonderful news.” He glanced down the row of stalls to where Crowley stood debating over vegetables.

She followed his gaze and smiled. “Finally got that young man of yours to come down to the market with you?” She gasped as Crowley shifted, turning in profile. The old band t-shirt he was wearing over black leggings was much more formfitting than the clothes he’d been wearing before his secret had been discovered. “You’re expecting?! Congratulations, Mr. Fell!” She patted him heartily on the back with a big smile.

“Thank you, my dear,” he said with a happy wiggle. “We hadn’t thought we’d be able to conceive, so this is quite the blessing.”

“Well it couldn’t have happened to a nicer fellow,” she said happily. “Now, I know you’re partial to the marmalade, but what about your lovely down there? I’ll throw in the second jar for free.”

“Oh, please, I’ll pay for both jars,” he protested.

She shook her head and said firmly, “I insist. Consider it a present for the happy occasion.”

Aziraphale demurred to her judgment, but he miracled the price difference into her purse all the same. He came away with a jar of the marmalade and a jar of black currant jam for Crowley.

==

Aziraphale perched on one of the spindly-legged stools at Crowley’s kitchen counter and watched him chop and season, saute and sear, with a practiced hand that surprised and delighted him to no end. For all of the angel’s love of food, he’d never really taken a stab at learning how to prepare any of it himself. That Crowley had, even though he’d never really appreciated food the way Aziraphale did, was endlessly endearing to the angel. Though the demon would never admit it, Aziraphale knew that he’d done it in the hopes of impressing him.

Crowley swayed back and forth to the music coming from his stereo system. They’d come back to Crowley’s flat because Aziraphale’s tiny kitchenette was perfectly fine for making tea and cocoa, but it was woefully inadequate for cooking actual meals. Whereas Crowley’s kitchen was sleek, modern, and fully equipped.

They ate at the counter because Crowley’s dinning room was completely empty. He’d never seen the point of furnishing a room he never intended to use. Crowley ate quickly and heartily. Aziraphale savored his food and showered his demon with praise over the food.

“Really, dearest, you’re quite the talented chef,” he said, dabbing his lips with a napkin.

Crowley was beyond flustered by this point. Between Aziraphale’s moans of enjoyment and his praise of Crowley’s work, Aziraphale was quite honestly surprised Crowley hadn’t snaked out in self defense yet. He could see a patch of black scales peaking up above the collar of his t-shirt.

Aziraphale smiled and took pity on his blushing demon. He leaned forward and gave him a chaste kiss. “You can change forms if it’ll make you more comfortable, dearest.”

Crowley gave him a sheepishly grateful look and transformed. “Can’t blush in this form,” he said telepathically, tone embarrassed.

Aziraphale held out a hand to the moderately large black and red snake coiled awkwardly on the stool, and Crowley gratefully coiled his way up the angel’s arm and across his shoulders. He nosed Aziraphale’s cheek, his thin tongue flicking out and tickling the angel’s cheek. Then he surprised them both with a huge yawn, his jaw nearly unhinging from it.

Aziraphale chuckled and stood, saying, “Dearest, would you like me to take you to the plant room for a nap?”

“Sounds good to me, Angel.”

==

As Crowley napped, lulled by the sounds of his terrified plants shivering, Aziraphale took the opportunity to wander the flat. He’d been to Crowley’s flat several times since the demon had acquired it near the start of the 1800s, but those visits had almost exclusively been limited to the living room and the kitchen. The flat was an ever-evolving thing, décor and layout changing with the trends of the day. The result was that Aziraphale was never quite sure what to expect when he walked in. The current layout was almost painfully minimalist and intensely modern.

Thankfully, he’d seen Crowley use the (in his opinion) overly dramatic swinging walls that the demon called doors, so he knew how to recognize them and how they worked. He wandered down the hall, smirked at the statue of the two winged figures “wrestling”, and pushed the last door in the hall open. 

It swung open to reveal Crowley’s bedroom. The room was huge. Aziraphale was pretty sure that you could fit nearly half his flat in there. The bed was palatial, with black silk sheets, a pair of over-sized pillows in dark red pillowcases, and a thick minky comforter. The rest of the room was mostly bare, except for a large Persian rug, a pair of dark side tables each with a sleek black iron lamp, and an antique vanity with a large oval mirror suspended over it. A set of double doors were set into the wall next to the vanity. 

Aziraphale wandered over to the vanity and trailed his fingers along the polished wood surface, smiling at the various pots and tubes of makeup, bottles of perfume, and combs and brushes littering the surface. He smiled at the thought of Crowley taking the time to do his hair and makeup the human way.

Aziraphale opened the double doors and marveled at the enormous walk-in closet. He stepped in and was enveloped in Crowley’s scent. He took a deep breath and trailed his fingertips along the hangers as he admired his fashionista demon’s collection of clothes, shoes, and accessories.

==

The door directly across the hall was a bathroom with an over-sized garden-style tub and a glass-enclosed walk-in shower. A couple of shelves held an assortment of bath salts, bubble baths, and the like along with a few stout scented candles. Aziraphale was enraptured at the scene this room conjured up of Crowley luxuriating in a scented bath, steam filling the room, his long hair dark with water, candle light flickering over his skin.

He wondered if Crowley might be open to taking a bath together. 

==

Aziraphale skipped the next door since it led to the plant room where Crowley napped. The next door down opened onto an empty room. Aziraphale frowned. There were a couple of build-in bookcases, a couple of old rugs rolled up in a corner, and a couple of old trunks.

==

The last door in the hall led into a room with an ornate throne-like chair, a desk which held Crowley’s telephone and answering machine, a sleek bookcase full of books, and a flat-screen television set. Aziraphale smirked as he pictured Crowley lounging in this dramatic chair. 

==

After satisfying his curiosity, Aziraphale made himself a cup of cocoa (of course Crowley kept his favorite cocoa mix on hand), and made himself comfortable on the sofa in the living room with a book he’d borrowed from Crowley’s office. 

The book was a lovely book of queer poetry, but Aziraphale found he couldn’t focus on it. He was consumed with an idea that was nebulously floating around in his mind, forming slowly.

He set the book aside and sipped his cocoa, furrowing his brow as he gave the notion his full attention.

By the time Crowley had awoken and slithered his way into the living room, Aziraphale had come to a decision. Crowley coiled himself around Aziraphale, resting the gentle bulge around his middle on the gentle swell of the angel’s stomach.

“It’s a good thing that you figured out that I was pregnant, Angel,” he said as his head slid up to rest on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “It’s starting to be obvious even in this form.”

Aziraphale ran a gentle hand over the bulge of scales resting on his stomach and said thoughtfully, “Crowley, darling, can I speak with you?”

“Course, Angel.”

“I want to move in together.”

Crowley’s head came up in surprise. He uncoiled enough to look Aziraphale in the eye. “Okay, Angel,” he said slowly, “it’ll take me a few days to sort through my things here, but I—” 

Aziraphale held up one finger and tapped Crowley’s snout gently, interrupting him. “No, no, you misunderstand me, my dear. I don’t want you to move into the flat over the bookshop. I’m afraid it’s much too small for the three of us.” He lovingly stroked Crowley’s head as the serpent gave him a confused look. “I hope you won’t be be cross with me, my dear, but while you were napping, I took a look around your flat, and I couldn’t help but notice how much larger it is than my little flat.”

“Angel, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Aziraphale beamed at him and said, “I rather think I am saying that I want to move in here with you. Of course, I’d like it if we could redecorate to make it feel more like we both lived here, and of course we’ll need to turn that spare room into a nursery, and—”

Crowley cut off the angel’s rambling by transforming and snogging him senseless. Aziraphale’s arms came up and twined around him, pulling his slender frame flush against him.

Crowley pulled back and asked, “Do you really mean it, Angel?”

“Of course, dearest. I love you, you wily serpent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!  
> Should I write more of this? What sorts of things would you like to see our Ineffable Husbands get up to?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some time has passed since Aziraphale found out that he and Crowley were expecting. They've settled into a new stage of their domestic bliss as they prepare for their little one's arrival.
> 
> But just because Crowley has come clean about his secret doesn't mean they're done with secrets. In fact, Aziraphale has been exchanging cryptic messages with a certain witch, right under Crowley's nose. What is the angel up to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some things to note before we dive into this chapter:   
> 1) There's a non-specific time jump between the last chapter and this one. Crowley is further along in his pregnancy, and Aziraphale has officially moved in to his Mayfair flat.  
> 2) While I am a gay, biologically female person with a hazy grasp on my own gender identity, I am still learning about gender identity and how others express and relate to their genders. I intend no offense with how I've written Crowley in this fic, and if there's anything that bothers you, please feel free to reach out and educate me on your experiences/point of view. In this fic, Crowley is very fluid in his gender expression and while he generally chooses to present more femininely during his pregnancy, he is still mostly using he/him pronouns.
> 
> Now on with the fluff!

Crowley sprawled in the black rocking chair that he’d picked out for the nursery, watching as Aziraphale moved the heavy antique crib they’d compromised on around the room under Crowley’s direction. The angel’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his waistcoat was hanging in their closet, much to Crowley’s delight.

When Crowley finally decided on a home for the crib, Aziraphale pulled a tartan handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his brow. He crossed the room to stand beside Crowley and as they surveyed their work.

The antique crib’s soft lines were echoed in the swirling van Gogh-esque mural of the night sky that Crowley had painted across one wall. A charming plush toy duck held a place of honor snuggled into the soft rainbow-patterned, cotton sheets where their child would sleep.

Crowley shifted and started to question the furniture placement again, but Aziraphale put a hand on his shoulder and the demon settled almost immediately. “It’s perfect, my dear.”

“But maybe the changing table should be over there—” Crowley started, but he cut himself off when Aziraphale leaned down and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. The angel was radiating so much love that Crowley felt himself melting into his embrace. 

They stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, love radiating from every corner of the nursery, until Crowley’s phone dinged. Crowley sighed and shifted in the rocking chair to fish his phone out of his pocket while Aziraphale brushed a kiss over his hair before standing. 

Crowley grinned down at his phone and said, “It’s for you, Angel.” He held the phone out to Aziraphale, who took it from him, holding it in both hands as if he expected it to sprout wings and try to escape. His ridiculous reading glasses appeared on his nose as he peered at the screen. Crowley slouched back in his chair and absently started rubbing circles on his stomach as he was struck yet again by how much he loved this fussy, old-fashioned angel. 

Aziraphale read the message and smiled brightly. “Jolly good,” he murmured as he shifted his grip on the device and carefully typed out a response with one fingertip. 

“So, Angel,” Crowley began as Aziraphale passed the phone back to him, “what’s with the cryptic messages?”

Aziraphale beamed down at him and said, “I may not have excelled at espionage, but codes and ciphers are well within my wheelhouse, my dearest.”

Crowley pouted and asked, “You’re really not going to tell me what you and the little witch are up to?”

“No, darling, I’m afraid you’re just going to have to wait,” Aziraphale said cheerily. He offered Crowley a hand to help him up.

Crowley allowed the angel to haul him to his feet, thrilled as always by the angel’s casual display of strength and grateful to not have to struggle to his feet, a feat that had become increasingly difficult as their child grew within him. He leaned into the angel, snaking one arm around his neck and toying with his bow tie.

“I bet I could ‘convince’ you to tell me,” he said, tugging the bow tie loose. 

Aziraphale smiled and wrapped a hand around the hand that was now trying to unbutton his top button. “Dearest, as much fun as I’m sure we would have, it would be selfish of me to let you try when I have absolutely no intention of telling you,” he said and placed a gentle kiss on Crowley’s pouting lips. 

Crowley gave up on undressing the angel further and asked, “So, takeaway or shall I cook, Angel?”

“I believe our favorite Chinese takeaway has already received our usual order and should be on its way shortly,” Aziraphale said brushing a kiss over Crowley’s cheek.

==

Later that week, Crowley strolled arm in arm with Aziraphale through St. James’s Park. It was a particularly lovely day, so Crowley had worn a knee length black sundress over black leggings with a dark red cardigan. As they rounded a bend in the path, Crowley frowned as they passed their usual bench. “Where are we going, Angel?”

“Just a little further, my dear,” Aziraphale replied cheerily. He indicated the wicker picnic basket and folded picnic blanket hanging on his arm. “I thought we’d spread the blanket out on the grass over there.”

Crowley looked to the area the angel had indicated and frowned. Another group had already set up there. “Angel—” he began to protest when the group of assorted children and adults suddenly united in a formation around a tall cake on a folding table and he realized that he recognized all of them.

Anathema and Newt, Madame Tracey and Shadwell, and the Them shouted, “Surprise!” as Aziraphale led Crowley off the path towards them. 

Crowley bit the inside of his cheek against the smile that threatened to bloom as he realized what his angel had been up to this whole time. He shoved his sunglasses back up his nose and adopted a scowl. “Really, Angel? A surprise baby shower?” he said, trying to sound unaffected by the gesture even though the burning in his eyes was tears and not annoyance.

Aziraphale smiled brightly and said, “We want to celebrate you and the life you’re creating, my dearest.”

Crowley gave up his fight against the smile that had been threatening to spread across his face. He grinned at their assembled friends and said, “Well? If you’re all waiting for me to make some mushy speech, I’m afraid you’re going to be waiting for a long time.”

Aziraphale led Crowley over to the folding chair that they’d set up for him before adding the contents of their picnic basket to the buffet that was set out on the table with the cake. As the Them surrounded Crowley, peppering him with questions about the baby, Aziraphale piled up a plate, complimenting Anathema on her selections. 

“I only transcribed the list you sent for Newt,” Anathema said with a careless shrug. “He’s the one who actually made everything.”

Newt blushed as Aziraphale turned his deluge of compliments on him at this announcement. “It’s just lucky that my mum’s cookbooks had all the recipes you requested,” he said trying to wave away the angel’s compliments. “Although I guess I could have just asked Anathema to look them up on the internet...”

Aziraphale sampled as he went, exclaiming his delight over Newt’s cooking while Crowley fielded questions with the ease of someone who’s very good with children. The angel brought Crowley his plate and returned to the buffet to make himself a plate.

Crowley balanced his plate on the swell of his belly as Brian asked bluntly, “Mr. Crowley, I thought only girls could have babies?”

Crowley answered patiently, cutting in before Pepper could unleash the lecture he knew was coming. “Well, just because a person looks like they’re one gender, doesn’t mean they identify that way. Do you understand, Brian?” When he nodded, Crowley continued, “In our case, not being human, gender is sorta—optional I guess? We can choose to be any gender we want to be at any time. Right now I feel mostly feminine, but that might change when I wake up tomorrow. It’s a really personal thing.”

Brian looked thoughtful for a moment then he said, “So are you excited to be a mu-da-parent?”

Crowley grinned and said, “I am! At first I was a bit scared because I never thought I would get to have a family.”

Adam got a faraway look and said, “Your baby is neither angel nor demon. Not of Heaven or Hell.” He blinked seeming to come back to himself and grinned, saying, “You’ve got a family in us. You’re part of our gang.”

Crowley blinked at the message, both relieved at the information and unsettled by the reaffirmation that the young antichrist hadn’t lost all of his unearthly powers. He took a deep breath to settle his nerves, then reached out and ruffled Adam’s hair fondly and said, “Thanks, half-pint.”

==

Madame Tracey and Crowley watched as Shadwell reluctantly helped Newt load the opened gifts into the Bentley under Aziraphale’s supervision. 

“Congrats ducky,” Tracy said fondly. “Do let us know if you two lovelies need anything.”

Crowley hummed distractedly as he watched the loading process like a hawk. He frowned realizing he was stressing instead of trusting his angel to take care of his Bentley and forced himself to turn and watch the Them helping Anathema load the folding table and chairs into the van that she had rented to haul all the party supplies as well as the Them themselves to London.

==

Many hugs and goodbyes later, Crowley was driving sedately (for him), through central London accompanied by the quiet strains of Queen drifting from the Bentley’s speakers. Aziraphale gave a happy wiggle and said, “Well, I think that went swimmingly!”

Crowley flicked his yellow gaze over and hummed in agreement. 

“Did you have a good time, my dear?”

Crowley heard the nervous flutter in the angel’s voice, and he met those stormy blue eyes as he came to a textbook stop at a red light. “Yes, Angel. I needed a reminder that we’re not alone in this—our baby’s not going to be alone. That there are people in this world, in our lives that will love and support our child as they grow.”

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale said, happy tears welling up at the raw honest emotion in the demon’s tone.

“Oh don’t cry, Angel. You know how shot my hormones are right now,” Crowley groaned as the light changed and traffic started moving again.

“You old softie,” Aziraphale said fondly, pulling a handkerchief out of his sleeve.

Crowley grumbled and sped up, maneuvering the Bentley through a space in traffic that hadn’t been large enough for her just a heartbeat before. Aziraphale gripped the door handle and beamed as the demon blushed and growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me on this perilously slow journey with our favorite Ineffable Idiots! I'm sorry for the length of time between updates, but as I'm sure you're all aware, life is very topsy-turvy for everyone right now and I'm very much not exempt from it. Rest assured, I have not abandoned any of my works here on AO3, and I promise I will keep fighting to find the time/energy/inspiration to write for as long as there is life in this old carcass!
> 
> Until next time, stay safe, my dears!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's pregnancy comes to an end. A new life begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Crowley goes into labor in this chapter. Just a warning in case that sort of thing bothers you. Nothing is graphically described, and they get their happily ever after, but I'm including the warning just in case that sort of thing bothers you.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy this final chapter!

Aziraphale and Crowley were cuddled up on the sofa while a trio of grey-haired ladies debated over cheesecake. As Crowley muted the commercial break, Aziraphale sighed and said, “You know who has great cheesecake, dear? That little place over in Naples.” He rubbed a fond hand over the swell of Crowley’s belly and said, “We should take them there when they’re old enough to travel.”

Crowley shifted in his seat, readjusting the cushion cradling his lower back, and said, “Mmm, sounds good, Angel.” The show resumed and a fourth lady joined the original trio, perching on a stool and launching into a story about life in Italy.

When Crowley didn’t laugh at any of the jokes and kept shifting every few minutes, Aziraphale gestured the TV off and stood up, asking, “Dearest, are you feeling quite alright?”

Crowley flapped a hand dismissively and said, “I’m fine, Angel. It’s just not exactly comfortable carting around a whole other being all the time.” He sipped his tea, frowned, and started rubbing circles on his stomach. “Besides, they’re just restless. Maybe we should take a walk?”

“Of course, dearest. Should I grab some peas for the ducks?” Aziraphale asked as he helped Crowley out of the sofa.

Crowley made a noncommittal noise and snapped a pair of sunglasses into existence on his nose as he patted the pockets of the black joggers he was wearing. Aziraphale plucked Crowley’s mobile off a shelf nearby and handed it to him with a kiss. 

They spent an hour or so ambling slowly through St. James’s Park. Crowley’s swaying gait was much changed by his condition, no longer much of a slinky saunter, now it was more reminiscent of a ship under way, not that Aziraphale would dare tell the demon that. 

After the ducks had been fed and several slow laps of the park completed, Crowley and Aziraphale took a break on what they thought of as their bench. Crowley slouched against Aziraphale, eyes closed, humming an old lullaby quietly to himself. Aziraphale wrapped an arm around his thin shoulders, holding him close as the demon dozed off in the fitful sunlight.

==

A few hours later, Aziraphale was perched on a stool behind the ancient cash register as a tourist couple browsed in the shop. He was playing a sweets-themed game on the mobile that Crowley had insisted he buy so that the fussy angel would feel less inclined to hover over him as the pregnancy progressed.

Aziraphale had just beaten a level when a text message banner interposed itself over the top of his screen.

Angel, it’s time.

Aziraphale’s blood went cold as panic swept through him. He stood up so fast that he knocked over his stool which landed with a loud bang. The tourists startled at the sudden sound and stared wide-eyed as the previously mild-mannered bookshop owner started shooing them out with a panicked edge to his voice.

“I do apologize, but I’m afraid we have to close. Quickly now, if you please. My partner has gone into labor.”

The tourists left quickly with murmured words of congratulations, and Aziraphale hastily locked up behind them before just miracling himself into their bedroom in Mayfair.

Crowley had ditched his joggers and was wearing an over-sized black t-shirt that he’d favored as a nightgown since he’d outgrown his apple-patterned pajamas. He was pacing with slow determined steps, using whatever furniture came to hand for support. His expression was pinched with discomfort and concentration, but Aziraphale could sense his excitement. “That was quick, Angel,” Crowley said, grimacing and clutching the bedpost. 

“As if I would leave you to face this on your own, dearest,” Aziraphale said, trying to suppress his own nerves.

Crowley noted the anxious crinkle around the angel’s eyes and the nervous tinge of his smile, and he crossed the room and took his hands. “Angel, everything will be okay. This isn’t the first baby I’ve delivered.”

“You were much less personally involved in Adam’s delivery, my dear.” He frowned and added, “Either Adam, come to think of it.”

Crowley laughed, but the laugh broke off on a sharp inhale as another contraction swept over him. Aziraphale steadied Crowley as he swayed. When Crowley straightened and his breathing evening out, he said wryly, “I was referring to my time as a midwife with the Israelites.”

“Oh, I quite forgot about that,” Aziraphale admitted and produced a silk handkerchief from his sleeve and dabbed at Crowley’s brow. “Forgive me, my dearest. And tell me what you need from me.”

Crowley wrapped one long-fingered hand around Aziraphale’s wrist and said, “Just stay with me, please.”

“Of course, my dear.”

==

A few hours later, Aziraphale was beaming down at a tired but smiling Crowley as he held their daughter for the first time. “Oh darling, she’s perfect.”

“She gets it from you, Angel.”

Aziraphale chuckled and retorted, “Well then, she gets her looks from you.”

Crowley blushed and smiled down at the scrunched face beneath a halo of bright coppery curls. “So what are we gonna call her?”

“I quite like both Eve and Eden, but if you don’t like either of those, I also like Safiya and Raizel.”

“Raizel? Yiddish?”

“Yes, it means ‘rose’,” Aziraphale said, brushing a fingertip over her cheek.

“Raizel Crowley-Fell,” Crowley said slowly, rolling the syllables over his tongue. He smiled at her and said, “It’s perfect.”

“Welcome to the world, Raizel,” Aziraphale said, smiling beatifically at their tiny daughter.

==

Crowley smiled down at the tiny face nestled in a soft yellow blanket in his arms. Aziraphale tiptoed into the nursery and paused by the doorway to beam at the sight of Crowley rocking their newborn daughter in the rocking chair they’d picked out together. 

“If you’re not careful, your face will get stuck like that, Angel.”

“That wouldn’t be such a hardship, dearest. I’m the happiest being to have ever existed, especially now that our little family is complete,” he retorted fondly. He crossed the room and handed Crowley a cup of tea. He gently brushed his fingers over the fine cloud of ginger curls on her tiny head. “Good morning, Raizel,” he cooed. 

“It’s hardly morning, Angel,” Crowley said quietly.

“Oh hush, dearest,” Aziraphale tutted in the same singsong tone he was using on their daughter. “While you have had centuries to become an expert at sleeping, my dear, Raizel is still new at this whole existence thing. Give her time.” He knelt beside the rocking chair and brushed a kiss over her curls and added, glancing up at Crowley’s soft smile, “She’s bound to have inherited your talent for sleep.”

Crowley shifted Raizel in his arms and said, “I just hope she learns to like sleep while she’s small. She can stay up all night reading with her Papa when she’s older.”

Aziraphale stood and said, “If you want to go back to sleep, darling, let me take her. Papa and our little sugar plum can get a head-start on discussing the finer points of Wilde.”

Crowley quipped, “That’ll put her to sleep for sure,” but there was no bite in his tone and his expression was soft as he passed the baby to him.

“Oh hush, you,” Aziraphale said fondly as Raizel settled in his arms. He smiled up at Crowley and said, “Raizel will most certainly inherit my impeccable taste.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and hauled himself to his feet. “At least she won’t get herself locked up in the Bastille for dressing like a toff in the middle of the French Revolution.”

“Yes, but if she did, we both know her Daddy would be there in an instant,” Aziraphale said with a soft smile.

“Yes, well, her Daddy has had practice thanks to her Papa,” Crowley said with an impossibly fond smile. He leaned down and kissed Raziel then gave Aziraphale a gentle kiss. 

“Sleep well, darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it! The fluffy conclusion to the very first Good Omens fanfic that I ever wrote. I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think!
> 
> Come yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/TeacupWitchy) and [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/witchy-teacup)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought! 
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this silly fic. This was actually the first fanfic I wrote after my 7 or 8 year hiatus. My wife came up with the prompt and actually bought a new notebook to write it down in. She promptly christened it my "Prompt Notebook" and began filling it with random prompts for Good Omens fics.
> 
> So in a way, this is the fic that started it all!


End file.
